


Go West, Young Man

by Arsenic



Series: A Bat and Some Authority [5]
Category: DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Midnighter (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Corsetry, Crossdressing, Double Penetration, Genderplay, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Pole Dancing, Praise Kink, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Dick is of the firm belief that M should have a birthday.  And that a birthday should include birthday presents.





	Go West, Young Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sizna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sizna/gifts).



> Not beta'ed, because at this point the wheels have completely come off the train and I'm fine with that. More than fine. AKA, I'm just having fun.

"We're going to a cabaret club. And meeting Dick there." M says all of this slowly, mostly because he's waiting for Andrew to interrupt and tell him where he went wrong.

Instead, Andrew says. "Yup. Put on some nice jeans and a shirt that doesn't have blood on it. Act like a gentleman, I dunno. Something."

Instead, M narrows his eyes. "The last three dates we went on were all by mistake, two of them at the all-night diner with the banana-pecan pancakes, and one at a place called The Back Alley Pizza Clinic, because Bludhaven."

"Time to change it up, then, yeah?" Andrew asks, deadpan.

"I'm going to regret this." M knows this, and yet, somehow, he finds himself going to change. He has a problem. Two of them, really.

*

The cabaret club is a hole-in-the-wall. There are maybe seventy seats in the whole place. All of them are empty. Despite its stature, it's pretty classy. The place is clean, the tables all have simple black tablecloths on them, the seats aren't large, but they're comfortable. The stage is bathed in soft light, a classic, but well-kept red velvet curtain drawn back on the sides.

The only thing that's more strip-less-cabaret club is the pole in the center of the stage, and the way it's anchored makes M think it's not a permanent fixture. M tilts his head. Andrew says, "Stop thinking so hard, you're going to hurt yourself," and pushes him into one of the chairs at the table front and center.

"Is this place actually open?" M asks.

"We got in the door, didn't we?"

"That is not an answer," M says. He's about to press the issue when the house lights go down and a spotlight appears on the stage. A spotlight highlighting roughly six feet and some inches of possibly the sexiest thing M can ever recall seeing in his life.

Dick's eyes are done in elaborate shades of black and blue, black eyeliner latticing out in a design that heightens the darkness of his eyes and lashes, the sharp upward thrust of his cheekbones. He's painted his lips with a blue that shines like it's still wet, and every inch of revealed skin as well as the soft waves of his hair seems to have been dusted with something shimmery. It's not quite so intense as glitter, but he _sparkles._

His waist is pulled taut beneath a blue brocade steel-boned corset [adorned in peacock feathers and sporting a feathered train](https://www.etsy.com/listing/559529747/pick-size-royal-blue-peacock-eye-feather?gpla=1&gao=1&&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=shopping_us_a-clothing-womens_clothing-costumes&utm_custom1=db58821e-69f6-4aca-be23-25dbad4a5f08&utm_content=go_270942875_21143481875_69016961315_pla-106554537155_c__559529747&gclid=CjwKCAiAiuTfBRAaEiwA4itUqITsLXU-gPdCw5p8pd1D91KGs0iiqvU3m27RO5m6AgvYpENu54xW1hoC0PUQAvD_BwE). And below, the line of his cock teases M from underneath a [matching garter-belt-panty set](https://www.yandy.com/Covet-Me-Cobalt-Bra-Set.php?gid=417959&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=1555587509&utm_content=57616502537&utm_term=417959&gclid=CjwKCAiAiuTfBRAaEiwA4itUqEt6jq9aWGShgqOHaGSWgZ5WB3NY8HBf9eDTSgWJp96fsMsRR69vXBoCa9YQAvD_BwE). The black silken thigh highs that are held up by the garters travel down the miles of muscular thighs and calves to disappear into [low-heeled boots](https://www.amazon.com/Pleaser-Womens-Whimsey-115-Strappy-Velvet/dp/B002A237WE/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&keywords=victorian%20boots&qid=1462406808&ref_=sr_1_44&sr=8-44&srs=11790624011&linkCode=ll1&tag=vintagedancer-20&linkId=75ec00ff7cc6ddc0e021643007fa53b1).

"Holy shit." M isn't even sure if it's him or Andrew saying the words. 

Dick smiles a little shyly and M just about comes right there. Dick says, "Evenin', fellas. Glad you could make it."

And then there's music. M doesn't recognize it. It's violin heavy, but also…EDM? It doesn't matter, nothing matters, because Dick has pulled himself on the pole by his arms and is twirling upside down, legs straight out in a V and it's entirely possible M is never going to have a coherent thought again in his life.

Even in the corset, which obviously restrains how bendy Dick can be there's…there's a _lot_ of bending happening. And arms. And legs. 

It's definitely M who says "Holy shit," this time. He thinks he might have been repeating it.

He's forgotten how to breathe by the time the music fades out and Dick stalks to the edge of the stage, sliding off of it, and straddling M's lap. M blinks and says, inanely, "It's not Halloween."

Dick leans in and slides those painted lips against ear. "No. It isn't. What day is it?"

M can barely remember his own fucking name with Dick this close. Somehow his hands have gone to Dick's waist, made tinier in the corset, underneath his palms. Across the table, M can feel Andrew's gaze on him, heavy and aware and oh. "Oh. I brought him back. Today, three years ago. I brought him back."

"Mm," Dick agrees. "What better day for your birthday, wouldn't you agree?"

M's pretty sure he'd agree to first degree murder of innocents at this moment if Dick intimated that was what he wanted. "Um. Yes?"

"And a birthday boy deserves a birthday present, right?"

"That's…birthday presents are a thing," M says. His experience is kind of objective, really, since he's never had a birthday that he can remember, but Andrew has one, and M has gotten him presents on it before. 

"What would you say, cowboy, if I told you I got you a lasso for yours?"

M looks up at where Dick is now sitting straight, staring down at him, lips curled up mischievously, waves of dark hair falling into his painted eyes. He takes a breath, then another. "I'd say I knew exactly what I was going to catch with it."

*

The rope is blue, because of course it is. And, as promised, it's secured in a lasso tie. M laughs and slips it free, doubling it to create his own bite. He's not much for bondage, really, prefers to use his own strength to keep who he wants where he wants them, but he can't deny the fact that there's something in the roughness of the hemp against the olive-gold sheen of Dick's skin. He doesn't get fancy, doesn't do anything more than a few ties that will keep Dick's arms behind his back, his chest forced just a little bit forward, the shape of the corset making it so that his ass is even more pert than normal.

He kisses Dick's mouth, messing with the gloss, holding Dick steady. Dick pants, leaning into his grip. M asks, "Do I get to take my present home?"

"Yours to do with as you wish," his present tells him.

He glances over at Andrew, watching with hooded eyes, and tosses out a hand. "Door."

*

M keeps his hands on Dick as they step through, making sure he doesn't stumble. They enter into the bedroom, because M isn't interested in wasting time. He lowers Dick onto the corner of the bed and says, "Legs open."

"Yes, mister," Dick says, pliable and sweet as some tavern girl looking to make a good buck or two for the night. 

"Jesus Christ," Andrew swears softly. M wholeheartedly agrees.

Quietly, M says, "Color system, yeah?"

Dick nods. "Green light go."

M grins, kissing Dick until, when he pulls back, Dick sways a little, even sitting down. Andrew's taken the chance to get naked, and is playing with himself, but it's slow, patient, like he's just waiting to see what happens.

M unbuttons his own shirt, enjoying the way Dick's eyes follow his fingers through every button. He divests himself of the shirt and moves to his pants, Dick making breathy little whimpers of interest, but otherwise staying quiet. Once, M has gotten himself undressed, Dick licks his lips, eyes wide and dilated.

M considers, then tries, "Good girl," and Dick nearly comes off the bed, eyes flying even wider, the compliment seeming to electrify him. The tips of his ears and cheeks flush, pink and too-damn-pretty for any human. 

M folds to his knees and takes off Dick's boots, button by button by button. Once Dick's feet are free, M kneads at them. He's careful, his intention to relieve some of the strain he knows has to have built up by now. Low heels or not, there's still elevation, and Dick had _moves_ in them.

Dick makes the sweetest, neediest little noises, and M runs his hands up the inside of Dick's thighs, then releases the clasps on the garters, his hands slipping beneath Dick's legs for the ones along the back of his thighs. Slowly, he rolls each of the stockings off, before taking time to lick and nibble his way up from Dick's ankle, to the line of his panties, where Dick's cock is now straining.

M looks over at Andrew, who takes the hint to come sit behind Dick, lifting him up a bit so M can get him free of the underwear and the belt. Now that he has access, M licks at the tip of Dick's cock, swirling his tongue over the head. 

Dick falls back against Andrew, his head coming to rest on Andrew's shoulder. "Please, mister. Please."

M settles his hands on Dick's thighs as he works steadily at his cock. When Dick's pleas aren't making sense anymore, he lifts himself off. Dick sobs, shuddering.

It's Andrew who says, "Shh, pretty."

M gets to his feet and grabs lube from the bedside table before getting onto the bed and resting against the headboard. Andrew picks Dick up and puts him so that he's straddling M's legs on his knees, facing Andrew. M puts his hand to the bare part of Dick's back and enjoys the consistent shivers running through him for a moment. Then he lifts up the train of feathers, tucks it between Dick's arms and his back, and presses two lubed fingers inside of Dick, watching as Andrew drinks up his gasp.

Andrew moves back and says, "Color."

"Greengreengreengree—"

Andrew kisses him again. M laughs, unsure of how else to handle the joy that feels like it's bubbling under his skin. He works a third finger in, enjoying the way Dick's moan is almost subvocal with his mouth on Andrew's. After a bit, he removes his fingers and uses his other hand to guide Dick down onto him. 

He pulls Dick so that Dick's resting against M's chest, arms still bound neatly behind him, corset still keeping his torso straight. Andrew follows, grabbing the lube and fisting his cock with quite a bit of it. He pushes Dick's legs back, and M growls at how fucking gorgeous and bendy and unreal Dick is. Andrew lines his cock up against Dick's hole and says, "Breathe, doll."

Dick takes as much of a breath as he can, given his predicament, and Andrew pushes just slightly in. Dick gasps, "Oh," and his breathing goes a little high.

Andrew puts a hand to his face. "Color."

"Ah. Yel, um—I—Hard to breathe."

"Okay beautiful," M says, and pulls the spots on the rope he intentionally left so he could undo them quickly. Dick's arms go forward, almost of their own volition and Andrew catches them, drawing Dick toward him so that M can pick free the knot on the corset and loosen it until he feels the moment of give and hears Dick drag in a deep breath.

"There you go, sweetheart," M says.

Dick mumbles, "Mm, green," and uses the leverage having his arms back gives him to push himself a little further onto Andrew. All three of them gasp.

"Fuck, you're a fucking miraculous miracle," M babbles, kissing along the skin of his shoulders.

Dick giggles, sounding a little punch-drunk, and wiggling his way farther down. There are long moments where they move together, finding something kind of like a rhythm, but mostly just working with each other, sinking into each other's skins. M's hand finds Dick's cock, and he mumbles, "Best birthday present," making a sound of disapproval when Dick points out, "only birthday present," because that is distinctly beside the point and he doesn't have words to argue it right now.

The whole thing is somehow both intense and yet languid, sharp and sweet, and M can't even differentiate his climax from everything else, it's all too much together. He knows at some point Andrew gets them free of each other, takes Dick completely out of the corset, and cleans them up with wet, soft rags.

It feels, mostly, like one long, heady dream.

*

M wakes to find Dick watching him, eyes covered in the smeared remains of last night's makeup, arms still reddened with hints of where the rope held him. Dick rumbles, "A very merry unbirthday to you."

Andrew laughs softly from Dick's other side. M can't explain why but he finds himself kissing the tip of Dick's nose. It makes Dick's eyes flutter, and he makes a sound that's somewhere between a giggle and a snuffle. 

"You're a mess," M tells him, no edge to the statement at all.

"Kinda sore, too," Dick says, sounding indecently pleased about the fact.

M brushes some of the hair out of Dick's face with his hand and asks, "Shower?"

Dick arches into the touch. "In a minute. Just…not really ready for your birthday to be over."

"As I understand it, I'll have another one next year."

Dick grins. "That is how it works."

"And now," Andrew says, "we have a whole year to plan."

Dick's eyes get bright. He admits, "I made a list of options before settling on this one."

On the one hand, of course Dick did. On the other hand, M points out, "It's possible getting a birthday will be the thing that kills me."


End file.
